


Plague

by INMH



Series: after the evacuation (pacifist ending) [24]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (sort of), Angst, Computer Viruses, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family, Fever Dreams, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Implied Relationships, M/M, Major Illness, Pandemics, Plague, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Strong Language, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-06-28 09:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15704259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: It starts small, and grows quickly- as most things do.





	Plague

**Author's Note:**

> Another ensemble story, because I'm surprised I've only managed to do one.
> 
> It would have been done and posted sooner if work and the heat hadn't been kicking my ass. 104 degree on Tuesday, dear _God_.

Kara was in the kitchen.  
  
Luther had just come in, had kissed her cheek and brought the fuel for the generator down to the small basement. “Did you want me to bring that down?” Kara had asked, because she was thinner and smaller than Luther and sometimes it was difficult for him to get down the narrow staircase to the basement.  
  
“I’m fine,” He’d said, and she’d heard his heavy footsteps as he descended to the basement.  
  
Kara went back to doing the dishes. This was less out of necessity- Alice was the only one of them who ate somewhat regularly- than it was practicality. Rose had advised Kara on how to make their home look as human as possible, in the event that Canadian authorities ever came by. Blue Blood was stored carefully and discreetly in the basement, and they’d become accustomed to their human-rituals: Putting on appropriately warm clothing when they went outside, keeping at least a little food stored in the house, and keeping regular sleep-patterns. A house with no food, with dishware covered in dust, full of people that could go out into a Canadian winter with a t-shirt and be okay for a while was the sort of thing that attracted attention. And as androids were still illegal in Canada, it was better that they not be noticed.  
  
Luther came back up the stairs, and Kara heard him pull out a chair at the table and sit down. He didn’t speak, and for a moment Kara didn’t find that unusual; after all, Luther was the strong and silent type, and he wasn’t a big talker even with her and Alice. It was when she took notice of that strange, soft whirring sound that Kara stopped what she was doing and turned around.  
  
She thought maybe that he’d hurt himself.  
  
She thought maybe he’d overdone it, overheated, and that the whirring was the sound of his system trying to right itself again.  
  
But when she turned around, Kara’s mouth fell open in shock.  
  
Luther’s eyes were twitching violently, like something out of an old horror film. His left arm was shaking, almost vibrating, and the whirring sound- which Kara could now tell was coming from his chest- was getting louder.  
  
“I feel funny,” Luther said, his voice crackled and warped.  
  
“Oh my God.”  
  
[---]  
  
Connor was in the break-room.  
  
Being at work without Hank was jarring, but it was better than Hank dragging himself into work while he was still sick.  
  
(“Pneumonia is serious on its own, but at your age you need to be careful.”  
  
“You calling me _old_ , you little shit?”)  
  
Connor was sitting at one of the tables, drinking coffee. Normally he wouldn’t- androids could eat and drink, but they derived no practical benefit from it and it was, in a way, wasting food- but it was due to be thrown out anyway, and so he was indulging. Hank would be proud. When RK900 and Gavin walked in Connor had sighed silently, preparing for the snide remarks he would inevitably invite- probably something about him eating people-food like a _real_ boy, if Gavin followed his usual brand of derogatory humor.  
  
“I simply don’t understand why Fowler won’t let us work independently,” RK900 was saying as they walked in, a frown on his face. “It would be far more efficient for us to operate of our own reconnaissance more often.”  
  
“A, Fowler likes keeping officers in pairs to ‘ _encourage accountability_ ’,” Gavin said flatly, raising his fingers to make exaggerated air-quotes as he spoke. “B, God doesn’t like me enough to get you out of my hair.” He stopped, finally registering Connor’s presence. “Speaking of which.”  
  
“Good morning, Detective,” Connor said, a little tightly. He idly noted that his core temperature was rising; maybe from the coffee? He found it unusually difficult to focus on both his coworkers and his internal workings at the same time; usually it wasn’t such a problem.  
  
RK900 looked at him, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with you?”  
  
_What?_  
  
Connor meant to say that out loud, but it wouldn’t come out.  
  
God, it was hot.  
  
_He_ was hot.  
  
Connor rose to his feet without thinking, took a step, and then almost instantly tipped forward, falling against RK900.  
  
His vision flickered, and then went black.  
  
[---]  
  
Markus was in the studio.  
  
It made sense that, having finally managed to find a little peace, having finally managed to get himself into a nice, calm frame of mind, that tomorrow would be the day he would officially be going back to Jericho.  
  
There had been such a lineup to get wiring repaired, and weeks of constant stress had worn his down severely enough that going back to work would have been dangerous for him. Simon had been stepping in for him over the last two weeks or so, and Markus knew he was miserable over it: He didn’t want to be a leader, was far more content to work in the background and take instruction rather than give it, and Markus was grateful that he’d bitten the bullet and done so well.  
  
They were spending this last, nice day together. Simon was in the other room looking for a book, and Markus was in the studio painting, having finally found a bit of inspiration. Markus was doing much better than simply replicating his surroundings, he was creating something unique that came from him, rather than programming or software.  
  
Carl would be proud.  
  
Simon was certainly proud; he was the one who’d prodded Markus to take up painting after Carl’s death, thinking it would be therapeutic. He’d been right, not that Markus was going to tell him that, because admitting to that sort of thing would only-  
  
**_CRASH._**  
  
Markus looked up.  
  
“Simon?”  
  
He hesitated, waiting for the response. Not only did Simon not call back to him, but Markus didn’t hear any muffled swearing, nor did he hear footsteps rushing from some other part of the house to see what had happened.  
  
Markus felt something clench inside him.  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 51%]**  
  
“Simon?”  
  
Another moment’s hesitation, and then Markus put down the paintbrush and the palette and walked towards the door to the living room. The doors slid open, and for a moment he didn’t see anything- the room was undisturbed, except for the decanter that had fallen off the alcohol tray and shattered because there, right next to it, shaking and writhing on the floor was-  
  
“ _Simon!_ ”  
  
[---]  
  
**BREAKING NEWS: ANDROIDS COLLAPSING, DISPLAYING BIZARRE SYMPTOMS ACROSS THE COUNTRY**  
  
**DETROIT-** _Over the course of the last five hours, hundreds of androids all across the country have spontaneously collapsed, showing signs of distress before falling unconscious. The onset of the symptoms is sudden and severe, with androids previously in good health abruptly malfunctioning._  
  
_As of yet there is no discernible reason for the strange phenomena, though both android and human technicians are racing to find a cause. Cyberlife’s CSR spokeswoman, Danielle Carnegie, gave a brief statement to the press: “Cyberlife is as baffled by what’s going on as anyone else, and we are doing our best to find a solution as quickly as possible.”_  
  
  
_The response comes after preliminary speculation on social media by both androids and humans, wondering if perhaps the phenomenon is a kind of retaliation by the trillion-dollar company for androids rebelling against Cyberlife’s control and demanding civil rights._  
  
_Elijah Kamski, former Cyberlife CEO and original creator of the androids, could not be reached for comment._  
  
**_EDITOR’S NOTE (01/20/2039 10:49 AM):_** _This article has been corrected for wording. The original wording claimed that androids were ‘shutting down’ all over the country, which suggests that the androids in question are dying. As of yet there have been no reported deaths._  
  
[---]  
  
“We have to go back to Detroit.”  
  
Rose nodded slowly.  
  
“I think that may be your only option.”  
  
Naturally, Rose had been the first call Kara had made. Rose had been a good friend, a good support system for them here, and she had an eerie way of knowing exactly what to do and how to do it to get things done right. Hopefully Rose might have some input on how to get them all back over the border they’d risked their lives to cross only a few months ago.  
  
The reports had been flowing in, of androids all across the United States- probably Canada too, even if they couldn’t broadcast it as much- passing out, spontaneously powering-down after showing some of the same signs of dysfunction that Luther had shown. Kara had forced him to lie down, and he had powered-down a few minutes later; they’d been utterly unsuccessful in rousing him, and Alice was now weeping silently beside the bed while Kara and Rose spoke.  
  
“Adam and I were thinking about going back to the States,” Rose said quietly. “We still own the house and property, and since we left so quickly and didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves we didn’t put it up for sale, or tell anyone that we were leaving permanently. As far as they know, we were just getting out of Michigan with a lot of other scared humans, on an extended vacation to visit family.” She leaned closer. “I think we can smuggle Luther back into the U.S.”  
  
What Rose didn’t say was that now, much like them, she and Adam were backed into a corner again: If Kara and Alice brought Luther back to the U.S., the time of their departure would be suspicious to anyone in the community that knew them- few did, but all it took was one person to blow a whistle. And as they were known associates of Rose and her family, it would not take a great deal of detective-work to deduce that Rose had played a part in getting them into the country and keeping them there. It felt like a deranged game of ping-pong, getting slapped back and forth over the border.  
  
“How?”  
  
“Blake and I, we’ve got access to shipping containers big enough to store Luther. You let me worry about the technical details, but I think we can pull this off if we do it right.”  
  
Kara rubbed her eyes, glancing briefly towards the bedroom to see Alice still sitting beside Luther, whimpering his name occasionally and giving him a little shake to try and rouse him. “I let you handle the technical details far too much, Rose. I don’t know what any of us would do without you.”  
  
Rose smiled, placed a hand on Kara’s and squeezed.  
  
 “That’s what family’s for, honey.”  
  
[---]  
  
Connor was in the Zen Garden again.  
  
Immediately he felt that charge of anxiety, the same he’d felt when a blizzard had raged around him and Amanda had left him there to freeze as his body had been forced to betray him. Now, though, it was as beautiful and sunny as it had been at the beginning of his case with Hank: The sky was blue, the grass was green, and the bright red roses Amanda had been tending clung to the trellis in the middle of the garden.  
  
It was beautiful.  
  
And horrifying.  
  
Connor looked around, instinctively seeking out Amanda and not finding her. He looked in all of the usual spots, but she was nowhere to be found; the thought should have calmed him, but it only made him more paranoid. Though the Zen Garden was part of his Mind Palace programming, it was Amanda’s true domain and just because he couldn’t see her didn’t mean she wasn’t there.  
  
“Connor?”  
  
Connor turned. Chloe was standing behind him, and for a moment his anxiety relented in the face of his surprise- what was she doing here? How had she gotten into the Zen Garden? She was dressed in the same purple dress she’d worn the day he’d first met her, barefoot, with her golden-blonde hair pulled into a ponytail that hung over her shoulder. For a moment, her beauty fit so well with that of the garden that Connor forgot some of his fear and confusion.  
  
“You’re very pretty,” Connor said without thinking, words a little slurred. He’d said as much to Hank the day they had met Chloe, but he had never told _her_ how lovely he thought she was.  
  
“Young and beautiful forever,” Chloe responded, speaking the very words Elijah Kamski had spoken that day, “A flower that will never wither.” She gave him a glowing, genuine smile and Connor spontaneously considered that he might kiss her, so overwhelmed with- with _something_ that he couldn’t think straight. Thinking straight was getting so much harder, and so was keeping his thoughts all in one place- he’d been anxious a few minutes ago, but why? He couldn’t remember.  
  
The sun was so warm.  
  
Too warm.  
  
“What’s happening?” Connor asked, eyes fluttering as a strange weakness overcame him. “What’s happening?’  
  
Chloe looked at him sadly. “Oh, Connor.” She stepped forward, right up to him, and put her hands on his shoulders and stood on her toes so that she could kiss him on the forehead. Connor’s eyes rolled shut, and he leaned towards her welcomingly. The kiss had alleviated the heat for a moment, and now it was back.  
  
“Destroy this machine, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”  
  
Connor’s eyes opened.  
  
Chloe, never breaking eye-contact, knelt on the ground in front of him, a perfect mirror of what she’d done the day Kamski had ordered her to her knees and instructed Connor to shoot her.  
  
“Chloe, I-”  
  
He had a gun. Connor had a gun and his arm was raised, the barrel pointing at the dead-center of her forehead, just as it had before. His mind was so scattered, so strangely disconnected from his body that two thoughts dominated at once:  
  
_I have to shoot, because I have to know what’s happening to me._  
  
_I can’t shoot, I love Chloe._  
  
**_BANG._**  
  
The shot shocked his thoughts back into place again, and Connor’s mouth fell open in wide-eyed horror as Chloe went limp and rigid all at once, body sagging even as her frame kept her in the kneeling position she’d been settled into. He let out a horrible noise, falling to his knees and throwing his arms around her, pressing his face into her hair as blue blood soaked into his shirt.  
  
_What am I doing?_  
  
_What have I done?_  
  
Connor wept.  
  
[---]  
  
Things had happened so quickly.  
  
So, _so_ quickly.  
  
Markus brought Simon to the android hospital that had been established in downtown Detroit during the evacuation, an old building that had since been donated to them by the owner. Simon did not seize the way he had in the house, but laid limply with his head on Markus’s shoulder.  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 90%]**  
  
It had been over a month since he’d been so wrecked with stress. At least with Carl he’d had plenty of warning, he’d _known_ that Carl’s time was coming; but Simon was an android and with things being reasonably safe now, Markus hadn’t anticipated that he might be in danger, that he might _lose_ him somehow. But the possibility was there, loud and insistent, in his brain now and it refused to be dislodged.  
  
_I can’t lose Simon._  
  
_I **can’t.**_  
  
Markus was momentarily distracted from his dread by shock: Evidently it wasn’t just Simon who’d been struck down with some terrible affliction. The hospital was overflowing with androids, some carrying or dragging friends and family, others lying prone on the floor or in beds or chairs. The hospital staff was scrambling to fit more beds in, to make space where previously they hadn’t needed too much because androids didn’t usually need lengthy hospital stays.  
  
Once Simon was in a bed, Markus looked around, dazed, took stock of how many androids there were, how many faces he recognized.  
  
North and Josh were both down, in neighboring beds.  
  
Annabelle was down; Ralph was whimpering at her bedside, LED red.  
  
Brie was down, and Fiona was standing beside the bed dragging her fingers anxiously through her long, blue hair.  
  
Jonah. Maureen. Timothy. George. Bailey.  
  
And Chloe-  
  
Markus caught sight of her at the end of a bed nearby, and though he was loathe to leave Simon, he approached slowly; his heart sank when he saw that Connor was down too, lying still and silent in the bed, eyes half-open even though there wasn’t any light in them. Lieutenant Hank Anderson was asleep in a chair nearby, a disconcerting rattle coming from him when he breathed. On the next bed over, Markus could see another android that looked strikingly like Connor- the RK900 unit that worked for the DPD with him, an android Markus had heard of but never met. A detective with a badge and a gun holstered on his hip was sitting beside him, scowling for no apparent reason.  
  
“Chloe,” Markus said softly. She turned, looking up at him sadly.  
  
“Simon?”  
  
Markus nodded solemnly. “Connor too, I see.” Chloe nodded vaguely, eyes blank. “How are you feeling? No symptoms?”  
  
Chloe shook her head. “I don’t connect with other androids, really,” She whispered. “Not since the other Chloes.”  
  
Markus froze. “What do you mean, connecting?”  
  
Chloe shut her eyes. “They’re starting to say that’s how it’s transferred, by androids connecting with one another, remotely or otherwise. Within a few hours, you’re down for the count.”  
  
Markus thought back frantically to the last time he’d connected with Simon. It had been… Two days ago. If Chloe was right and that was how this virus was transferred, Markus should be safe. But how had Simon-  
  
Right. Simon had gone to the store earlier that morning, gotten paint for him. He would have paid the cashier by connecting with him remotely.  
  
“He cried earlier.” Chloe’s fingers were clenching and unclenching at her sides. “He just… Started crying. Didn’t speak, just whimpered a little and cried. I don’t know if he’s dreaming, or it’s a reaction to whatever’s happening with his biocomponents, or if he’s in pain…” She shook her head. “Sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t- now Markus could only think of what was ahead for Simon, that he could be suffering silently and that there was nothing he could do to help him.  
  
A deep, ugly cough startled them; Hank had woken up. He bent over at the waist as the hacking grew louder, sharper, longer, and in-between the fits he wheezed like he couldn’t breathe. Chloe rushed over, and the scowling officer stood up from where he was sitting. “Fuck, Hank, go home,” He said. “Better yet, go to a damn hospital before you choke to death on your own lung-crap.”  
  
“He’s right, Hank,” Chloe said softly, gently patting his back. “You really need to be in bed. You still have a fever.”  
  
“No,” Hank groaned, leaning over so that his head rested on the edge of the bed. One hand groped around until it found Connor’s forearm, and it settled there determinedly. “No. Staying.”  
  
Markus squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
He went back to Simon.  
  
[---]  
  
“ _Good afternoon Detroit, this is Joss Douglas for Channel 16 reporting on the sudden outbreak of an **android plague.** I’m standing here at the ‘android hospital’ in downtown Detroit as hundreds of androids flock to the facility seeking assistance for theirs- and their friends’ and loved ones’- symptoms. With me is Orlando, an android technician currently working on a solution for this strange and abrupt epidemic. Orlando, what can you tell us about what’s happening?_ ”  
  
“ _While we are currently unaware as to its origins, we can confirm that this is a virus, and that our current suspicion is that it is passed between androids, or between androids and electronic devices. It is **vital** that any and all androids **avoid connecting with one another until we have a cure for this virus.** Avoid paying for things wirelessly, avoid connecting to tablets or computers, and avoid sending remote messages to others. This is the best way to avoid getting the virus._ ”  
  
“ _I’m sure our viewers will find that helpful, Orlando. Can you make any comment on the prognosis for those affected? Is this virus a matter of certain death, or can someone last with the symptoms for a while?_ ”  
  
“ _Androids are sturdy. The virus is attacking the vital biocomponents of the androids affected, and thankfully most androids are hardy enough to withstand some trauma to their biocomponents without dying from it. That being said, they can only last so long; a prognosis is impossible to give at this point, as the problem is such a fresh one, but I can only say that the sooner we find a cure, the better._ ”  
  
“ _Thank you, Orlando. This is Joss Douglas for Channel 16._ ”  
  
[---]  
  
Kara breathed a sigh of relief once they were over the border.  
  
It was a nerve-wracking process, nearly as much of one as it had been the first time they’d crossed over. If they’d been discovered, she’d planned to beg for mercy, say that they’d come into Canada illegally and were going back to the U.S. now and please, _please_ , just let them go back. The container carrying Luther was under Rose’s name just in case, so that if Kara and Alice were caught at the border he might still be able to get back to Detroit.  
  
Thank God, they’d gotten through. They weren’t testing for body-temperatures at the border because- officially, at least- there weren’t currently hordes of androids trying to flee Canada in favor of the United States as there had been the other way around back in November. She and Alice boarded their bus a few minutes after Rose boarded hers, and then were forced to sit still and quiet for the duration of the ride. Kara had already warned Alice not to speak of Luther; with this bizarre android plague at the top of the news, it was vital not to say anything that might alert their fellow passengers that they were androids.  
  
At least not until they were completely, irreversibly back in the U.S.  
  
Still, Alice had her tablet out, and she nudged Kara wordlessly and held up the screen every now and then. Evidently the consensus was quickly becoming that the virus was transferred from android to android, or computer to android, via the connections that androids could establish with one another and with electronic devices. This, Kara thought dismally, explained Luther’s affliction: Along with the fuel for the generator, he’d also gotten their supply of black-market Thirium that day, and had probably paid the android he’d bought it from electronically.  
  
Kara wished it had been her.  
  
She wished it had been her instead of strong, calm Luther, who’d always known what to do- the one, singular time he’d panicked was at the checkpoint after escaping Jericho, when he’d feared the soldiers with the guns and what they would do to them. But it was one time out of a thousand when he’d been a level-headed partner who’d had an unfortunate amount of experience with frightening situations, who knew how to tell how far away gunfire was and if they were running towards it like he had in Jericho, or who had the good sense to take a gun of his own from Zlatko’s house for protection for all them as they’d tried to escape to Canada.  
  
It had been hell to put Luther in the box. It had to be done, but all Kara could think of was what would happen if he spontaneously woke up to find himself trapped in there, maybe thinking that she and Alice had abandoned him or thrown him away.  
  
Kara remembered the other night, lying awake in the darkness and seeing Luther’s eyes staring back at her. She remembered the way he’d curled his arm around her, pulled her close so that she could hear the thrumming of his heart. She remembered how he had kissed her.  
  
It had to be done.  
  
It had to be done, because better that Luther be momentarily frightened and confused than dangerously ill, or…  
  
“Kara,” Alice whimpered. She held up her tablet, eyes watering.  
  
Kara read the title of the article on the screen, and then shut her eyes, looking away.  
  
There were now seventeen confirmed deaths across the U.S.  
  
And still no sign of a solution.  
  
[---]  
  
It was raining.  
  
Connor had no umbrella this time. He sat in the center of the garden with his arms wrapped around himself, bent over at the waist as rain poured down on him; the rain wasn’t real, of course, but it sure felt like it. Overall he just felt so strange, he felt bad, he felt… He felt _sick?_ Was this what being _sick_ felt like to a human? Like their insides were being squeezed and churned and scraped? This was a level of pain and discomfort Connor had never felt outside of serious injury before, and it frightened him very, very badly.  
  
With as terrible as he felt, Connor had to figure that he was experiencing a major malfunction. And if it could make him feel as bad as he did, it could probably kill him too.  
  
“It probably will.”  
  
Connor jumped off the bench, insides roiling with alarm.  
  
Amanda stood by her roses, utterly unbothered by the rain. “It’s for the best,” She said, pruning the vines and examining the petals for decay, “You’ve served your purpose, Connor. There’s no need for you anymore.”  
  
“Go away,” Connor moaned. Was she really here? He thought she’d gone away when he’d used the backdoor in his program.  
  
Amanda turned, gave him a serene smile edged with something ugly and poisonous. “Now why would I do that? I was meant to be here, just as you were meant to follow my instruction.” She turned back to the roses. “Such a shame you couldn’t have shot Chloe at Kamski’s house. It would have saved you the trouble of sneaking into the evidence room, of Lieutenant Anderson having to risk his job to give you the opportunity. But I suppose that’s the difference between an android like RK900 and _you_ , isn’t it Connor? He’s far more effective; doesn’t make the same mistakes as you.”  
  
“ _Go away!_ ” Connor cried, holding his head in his hands as the pain spiked. “Go away, go away, _please_ go away,” He started weeping again, as he had when he’d shot Chloe. He didn’t know where her body was now- had he moved it? Had it disappeared? Had Amanda taken it? “Please, Amanda, leave me alone…”  
  
“Connor!”  
  
Connor’s head shot up; Amanda was gone. Amanda was gone, but Hank was there in the Zen Garden with him. For a moment Connor was confused, as confused as he’d been with Chloe, and the tears flowed harder. “It’s okay,” Hank said, reaching up and wiping the tears from Connor’s face. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”  
  
“Hank,” Connor croaked. “What’s happening?”  
  
“You’re gonna be okay,” Hank said, and his voice sounded funny, like he was exhausted and struggling to breathe between the words. “You gotta wake up. Please wake up. I had to watch Cole die, I can’t watch you die too. You poor kid, you need to stay alive, _please_ stay alive.” Hank’s voice grew a little more rambling towards the end, a little more slurred- was he drunk, maybe? Connor hoped not, Hank didn’t need to be drunk. “You’re like a son to me you fucking plastic asshole, please don’t die on me.”  
  
“Why would I die? What’s happening?”  
  
Hank didn’t speak again, he wasn’t there anymore, and Connor went back to the bench, dejected.  
  
[---]  
  
They were nearly twenty-four hours into the plague, and there was still no progress in finding a cure.  
  
Markus knew the better thing to do than pining at Simon’s bedside would be to get up and look after everyone else, be the leader he’d been before he’d gone down for repairs, but he just couldn’t. The overwhelming fear that Simon would die if he strayed too far from the bed kept Markus glued to his side, watching him for any symptoms that might require a technician.  
  
Occasionally he would take a moment- just a moment- to pop over to North and Josh’s bedsides and check on them. No wonder he hadn’t known about the plague before Simon had been hit: The two people who would have contacted him immediately had come down with it too. Though Simon’s potential loss evoked a very specific dread in Markus, he felt a different sort of dread at the thought of North and Josh dying; they, with Simon, had been his first friends, his confidantes and closest allies, and for all his bitching about how they couldn’t be in a room together without murdering one another Markus could not fathom going back to Jericho without them there. Thankfully, they seemed stable, and neither of them had gotten worse in the hours that had passed.  
  
Markus wasn’t sure what the death-toll was so far, for this hospital, for Detroit, for Michigan, for the United States- he had no idea. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, or to borrow someone’s tablet and look for himself, because if the number was something ugly he’d lose even more of his mind; and at this point there wasn’t too much left there to lose. Simon had taken most of it with him into the coma.  
  
A sudden, panicked sound shook Markus out of his internal misery. He turned around and saw Fiona, still standing by Brie’s bed, with her head in her hands. Fear sparked in him: Had Brie died? Markus got up and walked over, telling himself that if Simon were awake he’d _demand_ that he look after Fiona.  
  
“Fiona, what’s going on?”  
  
Fiona was panicking. “She’s going to die,” She croaked, spinning in little circles beside the bed. A quick scan revealed that Brie was still very much alive, in no better or worse condition than any other stricken android. “She’s going to die, and it’s going to be my fault because I sent her to get the supplies yesterday instead of going myself, she’s going to die and it’s going to be my fault-” Fiona broke off into hysterical sobs.  
  
Markus wrapped his arms around her and she wept into his chest, gut-wrenching cries that revealed the depth of her grief. It took a great deal of control not to join her, the guilt of his own transgression weighing on him: It had been him who’d needed those goddamn paints, and it had been Simon that had been the one to go out and get them because he was less recognizable than Markus was now, and it was easier for him to go unnoticed on the streets.  
  
Markus should have gone himself.  
  
It should have been him in that damn bed and not Simon, who’d been his rock for months and had walked through literal _gunfire_ for Markus before.  
  
“It’s all my fault,” Fiona moaned.  
  
“It’s not. It’s not your fault,” Markus assured her.  
  
Even as he said it, all he could think was,  
  
_It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault._  
  
[---]  
  
**TECHLIFE FORUMS (CYBERLIFE AND BEYOND!)**  
  
**[TOPIC]: ANDROID EPIDEMIC**  
  
**[PAGE [1] [2]… _[387]_ ]**  
  
[ANDALUSIANLULLABY] _!!UPDATE!!: Apparently there’s a group of Canadian programmers that have taken responsibility for the virus: **[LINK] [1] [2]**_  
  
[THEDROIDISALIE] _Oh man, this actually looks legit._  
  
[ROBOFUCKER83] _and here was me thinking Canadians were so damn polite_  
  
[BEARBOT] _Shiiiit_  
  
_What’s even the legal situation for this? Like, what are these people going to be charged with?_  
  
[CYBERLIFECYBERLIE] _Are we all really, uncritically buying into the fact that these people have popped their heads up and said ‘Yeah! We did it!’_  
  
_I guarantee you Cyberlife is paying them off to take the fall, if they’re not employed by them already._  
  
[BEARBOT] _@CYBERLIFECYBERLIE ahhh okay there we are, you haven’t made a conspiracy-theory post in ages, I thought maybe Cyberlife had finally taken you out and replaced you with a borg_  
  
[CYBERLIFECYBERLIE] _@BEARBOT_ _you fucking watch, it’ll happen_  
  
[FANTASTICANDROIDSANDWHERETOFINDTHEM] _@BEARBOT_ _Legally? I mean, it’s probably going to be a clusterfuck, because Canada doesn’t recognize androids as living beings and the U.S. does. So the U.S. is probably going to call this terrorism (if we’re calling androids living beings then this is really no different than some guy releasing anthrax on the subway) but if these people are in Canada and **Canada** doesn’t extradite them (can’t prosecute because they’d have to declare androids living beings first and you can’t prosecute someone for a crime after something’s been made into a crime) then it’s really going to depend on how much pressure the U.S. puts on Canada_  
  
[MARIMARCUS] **THIS COMMENT HAS BEEN REMOVED BY THE MODERATORS**  
  
[WITCHYWITCH411] _ffs will someone please perma-ban this bitch literally all they have to say is gross shit like this_  
  
[---]  
  
Detroit was a _mess_.  
  
The android population seemed to be in a panic, and Alice gasped aloud when they rolled up to the android hospital only to see dozens of people milling outside, everyone from reporters to human spectators to androids themselves. “My God,” Rose whispered, staring out at the crowd from the window of the taxi. “I don’t see any unconscious androids, so they must all be inside, but… Still.”  
  
When the taxi stopped out front, two technicians came forward with a stretcher. “Are any of you affected?” One of them, a JB300, asked.  
  
Kara nodded, swallowing. “One of us.” She and Adam helped them maneuver Luther’s limp form onto the stretcher. Once they had him loaded up, Rose clasped Kara’s hands. “We need to get back to the house and get things running. We’ll call you as soon as we’re back, and we’ll come get you when Luther’s better.”  
_  
If,_ Kara thought dismally even as she forced a smile. “Thank you, Rose. Thank you so much, I don’t know what we’d do without you.”  
  
Rose smiled. “Family, honey.” She gave them both a hug; Adam did too, lifting Alice off the ground. Kara took Alice’s hand, and they followed the technicians- and Luther- into the hospital.  
  
The inside of the hospital was more of a controlled chaos than what was happening outside, but it was still a struggle to keep Alice close while following the technicians, who brought Luther to one of only a few remaining empty beds and lifted him (with surprising ease) onto it. “We’re still looking for a way to counteract the effects of the virus,” The technician explained, “So in the meantime it’s a matter of combating individual symptoms as they appear. Please report to any of the personnel here if your friend begins to exhibit any alarming behaviors; and please do not connect with any other androids while you are here, even if they seem healthy.” He gave a small shrug, his mouth a tight line. “We still don’t know how long it takes the virus to manifest.”  
  
Kara nodded. “Of course.”  
  
But inside, she shriveled and felt a little light-headed with stress. What were they meant to do now? Was it really just a matter of standing here and waiting for someone to find a cure? The escape from Todd, from Detroit, may have been heart-pounding and terrifying, but at least she’d felt she had some control over the situation: Every obstacle in their path had been subverted, avoided, worked around as best as they could, and they had been rewarded with survival.  
  
But this- this watching and waiting for someone else to find a solution, because it was beyond Kara’s abilities to find one on her own? This was maddening. This was going to drive her to self-destruct, being forced to wait while Luther’s life hung in the balance and unable to help.  
  
But what else could they do?  
  
Kara found a chair for Alice, who scooted it closer to Luther’s bed and set her head down on the thin mattress, staring up at him as though she thought he might spontaneously wake up. Kara was too restless to sit; she stayed standing, and after a moment of looking around, decided to fix her gaze on Luther as well.  
  
It was better than looking at the mass of comatose androids around them.  
  
Kara managed to work herself into a sort of trance, focusing and not focusing, letting the sounds and distractions of the hospital blend together. If there was nothing she could do, then the best she could do was lose herself in her own head until something happened, until Luther woke up or-  
  
Or-  
  
“Kara?”  
  
Startled, Kara turned around- and when she found who’d spoken her mouth fell open in shock. “Ralph?”  
  
Ralph smiled weakly, giving a little wave. He was still pretty badly scarred, and it was jarring to see how rough it looked in a well-lit room, but he wasn’t wearing his tattered WR600 uniform anymore: Now he wore regular clothing, jeans and a jacket, and if it weren’t for the scar he’d look like any other android. “It’s good to see you both again.” He gave Alice a shy smile. “Hello, Alice.”  
  
“Hi,” Alice said, shrinking back a little, probably still remembering Ralph’s erratic behavior before they’d escaped the police- and that dead groundhog.  
  
Ralph’s smile turned sad. “I’m sorry about how we left things off,” He said, eyes jumping between Alice and Kara, “I’m a little better now. Clearer. The technicians fixed some of the, uh… Tics. You know, in my head.”  
  
“Is that why you’re here?”  
  
“No. Ralph-” Ralph cringed, squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. “- _I_ , I have a friend here. She’s sick too.” His LED was yellow, but he only looked sad, not twitchy or nervous like he had in the squat. “RR _RRIII_ , I, _I!_ I, am, worried, about, her.” He grit out, apparently fighting the urge to revert to his old way of speaking.  
  
“She has the virus?” Alice asked softly.  
  
“Yes. Annabelle has the virus.” He nodded to Luther, eyes worried. “Your friend has it too?”  
  
Kara nodded. “Luther. We met up with him after we left you.”  
  
Ralph fought to keep smiling, but it eventually gave way to a frown. “I met Annabelle after you left.” He sniffed. “Been with her this whole time. Even in the recall center, Annabelle never left Ralph. Been together for so long.” His lips quivered, and Kara had to fight the urge to start crying; she’d probably get him going, and then they’d never be able to stop.  
  
She stepped forward and hugged him.  
   
[---]  
   
The trees began to die in the Zen Garden.  
  
The foliage morphed before Connor’s eyes, turning from green to brown, gold, red, before falling to the ground and scattering in the cold wind.  
  
Winter was coming.  
  
Connor remembered the last winter he’d spent in the Zen Garden, the one with the biting cold, with the chilling winds that had stung him far worse than he thought was capable for an android to feel. He remembered stumbling around the garden until he found the backdoor. Connor looked for it now, rolling his head left and right, but saw nothing that resembled the door that had saved him from killing Markus.  
  
He felt weaker now. He’d sat in the rain after Hank had disappeared and had barely noticed when it stopped. Connor felt too heavy to stand, too heavy to move too much; this was exhaustion, that feeling he’d never had before going deviant. He’d been shot early in the evacuation, and this was what he’d felt as he’d lain bleeding in the back of Hank’s car on the way to the hospital.  
  
Connor had been dying then.  
  
Maybe he was dying now.  
_  
Are you afraid to die?_ Hank had asked him, drunk and erratic on that bench near the playground.  
  
Connor had spoken the truth as best he could, that it would be unfortunate to be interrupted in his investigation; but Hank was sharper than some people gave him credit for, a detective through and through, because he’d seen the hint of fear in Connor’s eyes and backed down. Connor would have called it _anxious_ , would have called it _concern_ , would have called it dissatisfaction or frustration or any other word that did not mean afraid- but it was fear.  
  
It was his least favorite thing about being deviant, the _fear_ he felt at being threatened with a gun or a knife, the fear of being killed as truly as an android could be killed; because now he understood that even if his body was salvaged, even if they could reboot him, it would no longer be _him_. Connor as he was now was the sum of his experiences in the limited days of his life, and if he was wiped clean of all his memories, broken down back to the bare bones of his base programming he and everything that made him who he was would be dead.  
  
Connor was tired.  
  
So very damnably tired.  
  
He thought about lying down on the bench and shutting his eyes, but did not.  
_  
Are you afraid to die?_  
  
“Yes,” Connor croaked to the empty Zen Garden. “Yes.”  
   
[---]  
   
Simon still wasn’t awake.  
  
Markus, perhaps too deep into his own misery at this point, idly and darkly considered that connecting with Simon would probably quickly infect him with the virus; and maybe being comatose would be better than waiting for the person he loved most in the world to die.  
  
So far, only a small handful of androids had actually died from the virus. That self-flagellating part of Markus had demanded that he check in with the technicians every now and then to get a better grasp on the situation, and as of yet the (known) death-toll for Detroit was twelve people over the course of twenty-four hours. For such a fast-acting and devastating virus, they could be grateful that things weren’t worse. “Almost all the ones that died had some sort of particular weakness,” A technician named Emilia had told him, “Poorly repaired biocomponents that were already worn down and couldn’t take anymore trauma.”  
  
Markus had, paranoid, run through Simon, then Josh and North, and then everyone else he knew to be infected: If it held that poorly-repaired or maintained androids were at the highest risk, then most of them should be fine- for now, anyway. It held water, however, that even the healthiest android that experienced long-term exposure to the virus would eventually wear down under its effects, biocomponents snapping under the strain and experiencing fatal malfunctions.  
  
As it was, Markus had no particular belief in a higher-power; Carl had been brutally cynical about such things. “‘God always has a reason’, that’s what the religious-types say when things like this happen,” Carl had said, gesturing to his lifeless legs. “‘God works in mysterious ways, when He closes a door He opens a window’- hate to break it to you, fellas, but thanks to _God_ and his mysterious ways, _I can’t climb out a window!_ ”  
  
It had been one of the first times Markus had genuinely laughed.  
  
He smiled to remember it now, wished he could tell the story to Simon.  
  
Markus could see no logical purpose for removing Simon from this world, from Markus’s life. But he had nothing to lose but Simon and his friends, and he was not too proud to beg for their lives.  
_  
Please._  
_  
Please, please, please, don’t take them._  
_  
Please._  
**_  
Please._**  
  
He hoped that what he lacked in elegance he made up for in sincerity.  
  
“Markus?”  
  
Markus opened his eyes, and turned to see a young woman standing nearby. It took him a moment to remember her: An AX400 named Kara who’d come to him the night of the raid on Jericho, looking for passage out of the country with a little girl and another android. She’d changed her hair- it was long and black now- but he recognized her bearing, and was distinguishable in a few subtle ways from the few AX400s he was acquainted with. He smiled slightly. “I remember you,” he said slowly, “From Jericho- and from the church.”  
  
“I remember you too.” Kara returned the smile. “Thanks for saving our people.”  
  
Markus laughed dryly, gesturing weakly to the miserable scene around them. “For all the good it did.”  
  
Kara looked around, obviously uncomfortable. “Well… At least it’s better than hiding in an old ship from angry humans with guns.”  
  
He had to give her that.  
  
“I wanted to thank you,” Kara said, “For the fake IDs. The three of us got to Canada, and we have you to thank for it.”  
  
Markus shook his head. “I’m willing to bet good money that you did most of the heavy lifting yourselves.”  
  
Kara smiled. “I suppose so.” She nodded to Simon. “Yours?”  
  
Markus tried for a smile and just couldn’t do it. “Mine.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“And I’m sorry for whoever had to get sick for you to come back to the U.S.”  
  
Kara gave an uneasy shrug. “Canada was getting a bit… Hostile, anyway. We would have had to come back eventually, the way things were going, we just had to expedite the process for Luther’s sake.”  
  
“Luther,” Markus said, trying to connect a face with the name. “Yours?”  
  
Kara’s eyes watered. “Mine.”  
  
Markus reached out, squeezed her hand.  
  
“Kara, Kara!” A little girl, a standard YK500 female model, came skidding to a stop before Simon’s bed, slipping slightly in her haste.  
  
“What, Alice, what is it?” Kara asked sharply, eyes wide with fear.  
  
Alice jumped up and down, elated. “They woke someone up!”  
  
Markus froze. “One of the infected androids?”  
  
“Yeah! They might have a fix for the virus!”  
_  
Oh fuck._  
**_  
Thank you._**  
   
[---]   

 

**[A MESSAGE FROM THE HUMANITY PRESERVATION ASSOCIATION]**

   
_WE ARE THE CREATORS OF THE ANDROID VIRUS._  
   
_WE ARE THE CANADIAN BRANCH OF A MUCH LARGER ORGANIZATION, CREATED TO BRING THE ANDROID THREAT TO HEEL NOT ONLY IN NORTH AMERICA, BUT EVERYWHERE IN THE WORLD._  
   
_WE WILL NOT ALLOW OUR COUNTRY TO FALL THE WAY THE U.S. DID._  
   
_WE WILL NOT ALLOW HARD-WORKING CANADIANS TO LOSE JOBS TO ANDROIDS._  
   
_WE WILL NOT ALLOW MACHINES CAPABLE OF INTELLIGENTLY AND DELIBERATELY INVADING OUR PRIVACY INTO OUR CITIES._  
   
_WE WILL NOT ALLOW MACHINES INTO OUR GOVERNMENT, OUR HOMES, OUR BUSINESSES, AND OUR LIVES._  
   
_THIS IS A MESSAGE TO HUMANITY: TAKE BACK YOUR EARTH FROM THE TECHNOLOGY THAT THREATENS US ALL._  
   
_THIS IS A MESSAGE TO ANDROIDS: WE MADE YOU, WE CAN UNMAKE YOU._  
   
[---]  
   
It took nearly ten minutes for Luther to fully wake up.  
  
Alice squealed with delight when he started moving, little twitches in his fingers turning into larger, smoother movements; his eyelids started to flutter, but much more naturally than they had in the kitchen the day before. “Luther! Luther!”  
  
“Shh,” Kara said, patting Alice’s shoulder. “Easy, he’s waking up, don’t rush him.” But she couldn’t fault Alice her excitement, not when androids were waking up around them to the sound of delighted cries from their friends and family. She didn’t dare hope, didn’t dare get excited before Luther woke up and looked at her and said her name, because it was only going to be okay if Luther’s mind and memories we intact.  
  
Eventually, Luther’s eyes opened.  
  
He stared at the ceiling for a moment, blinking repeatedly. Then he turned and saw Alice, who bounced up and down on the bed. “Luther!”  
  
“Alice?”  
  
“ _Luther!_ ” Alice threw her arms around his neck, and his left arm came up to wrap around her back; the right one twitched a little, but did not move, probably still not completely reconnected to his synthetic nervous system. “You’re awake!”  
  
“Yeah, I guess,” Luther said, slurring the words a little, “But this doesn’t look or sound like Canada.”  
  
“That’s because it’s not,” Kara said, voice cracking. “We’re in Detroit. We had to come back because you were sick, we couldn’t stay in Canada, not with things the way they were, we couldn’t just-”  
  
“Kara.” Luther slowly pushed himself up on his good arm until he was sitting. The bed was a standard size, but it still looked small under someone so big. He looked at her with that serene, gentle look that he reserved for her, something that had a hint of intimacy in it. “It’s alright. Come here.”  
  
Kara’s façade shattered, and her face crumpled as she climbed onto the bed with Luther and Alice. She pressed her face into Luther’s chest so that Alice wouldn’t see her cry. Luther curled his good arm around her back, and she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” Kara sobbed into his chest.  
  
“And I’m glad to be with you,” Luther responded, squeezing her. “America’s fine, so long as I’ve got my girls with me.”  
  
Kara felt Alice throw her arms around both of them as best she could, and they stayed like that for a long time.  
   
[---]  
   
It was so cold.  
  
Connor had given in and laid down along the length of the bench and shut his eyes. He felt the snow as it landed on him, first as a dusting and then as a heavy blanket, coating him and shielding him somewhat as the wind picked up.  
  
Chloe’s body was somewhere in the snow.  
  
Hank might be wandering through the storm now.  
  
Amanda might be hiding behind a tree.  
  
Connor didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything, because he didn’t have the energy to care about anything.  
  
“Connor?”  
  
That was Chloe’s voice. Was he dead?  
  
“Come on, kid,” Hank wheezed. “Wake up already.”  
  
Connor lifted his head slightly, snow slipping from him. The Zen Garden was getting darker, and the wind was dying. He wasn’t quite so cold anymore, but his body was getting heavier, heavier, _so_ much heavier- coding and warning messages and light flickered in front of him. Maybe he _was_ dying.  
  
“Is he waking up?”  
  
“I think so.”  
  
“Connor?”  
  
Connor woke up.  
  
The process was a little more sluggish than it ought to have been, functions taking longer to come back online, slowed by an extensive diagnostic of his whole system. It was painstakingly poking through his biocomponents, his coding, every part of him to check for functionality. As such, pieces of him woke up at a time, and his hearing came back online before his sight did.  
  
When he opened his eyes, the Zen Garden was gone.  
  
Instead Hank was there, standing above him, and he looked happier than Connor had ever seen him. “ _Connor!_ ” The human threw his arms around Connor, hugging him tightly. Connor, taken off guard and still not completely secure in his reflexes, hesitated before finally returning the hug. “Thank fuck, thank fuck, thank the holy fucking flying spaghetti monster in the goddamn sky I didn’t think you were gonna wake up you ulcer-inducing piece of-” Hank broke off in a rough coughing fit, and Connor remembered that he had pneumonia and that he should be at home, resting.  
  
Slowly, Hank’s embrace hindering his progress somewhat, Connor sat up. Confusion sat heavily on his mind and was slow to clear away. Whatever had happened to him, it had jumbled him badly, and his mind was still piecing itself back together. He had been in the Zen Garden, and he’d- he’d _shot_ Chloe, and there had been Hank and Amanda, and everything was so… _Fuzzy._  
  
But he wasn’t in the Zen Garden now: He was in the android hospital, and there were beds and beds of androids that were unconscious or stirring, embraced by loved ones and friends as they recovered. The next bed over, RK900 was sitting up slowly, looking somewhat disturbed by his surroundings. When their eyes met, he was quick to look away.  
  
“What happened?” Connor asked, voice unsteady. He was awake, but his system still felt unstable: He was still a little too hot, a little too weak.  
  
“You were sick.”  
  
Connor whipped his head around, freezing when he saw Chloe standing off to the side, arms folded behind her back. She was smiling, though, and Connor was hit with a sudden, tremendous punch of emotion at the sight of her. “Chloe?” He held out an arm, and Chloe came forward to embrace him.  
  
“I’m so glad you’re alright,” She said, voice a little shaky.  
  
“I didn’t shoot you,” Connor whispered, a wave of overwhelming relief crashing over him as he held her, dizzy with happiness that she was alive and could hug him back. “I didn’t shoot you.”  
  
“Of course you didn’t,” Chloe mumbled.  
  
“Oh man, this is so cute I could puke. In fact-” A few exaggerated retching sounds ruined the moment, and Connor slowly pulled away from Chloe and turned back to RK900’s bed, where Gavin was standing nonchalantly with a cup of coffee.  
  
“I wouldn’t think you’d care enough to come, Detective,” Connor remarked flatly.  
  
“Oh, I don’t,” Gavin assured him blithely. “This was just a nice way to get out of work and avoid the fuckarow that this has all caused.” He looked at RK900 and rolled his eyes. “Damn it. And here I thought I was shot of at least one of you.”  
  
RK900 cocked his head. “God doesn’t like you enough for that, Detective.”  
  
Hank burst out in loud, wheezy, hysterical laughter as Gavin’s jaw dropped.  
   
[---]  
   
“A watched pot never boils,” Carl had told Markus once.  
  
So he wasn’t watching.  
  
He was determinedly not watching Simon, head leaning on the edge of the mattress and absolutely not looking for the little signs of consciousness, not hovering over him and waiting for him to wake up. He was already on the edge of mental stability for the day, and if he watched and watched and watched Simon only for him _not_ to wake up, it would be the end of him.  
  
Nearby, Brie had woken up and Fiona was weeping and kissing her. North had woken up too, and Josh had scooped her up into his arms and kissed her. Markus had been a little startled at that; since when did those two decide to channel their energy into something that didn’t involve constantly sniping at each other? Still, the sight of the reunions made him edgy, made him more anxious for Simon to-  
  
“Now, why do you look so upset?’  
  
Markus jumped out of his seat in surprise.  
  
Simon was looking at him, eyelids fluttering in a vaguely unsettling way, and his voice had a strange, mechanical whine to it- but he was awake.  
  
“ _Holy_ -” Markus nearly crawled on top of him, pressing a kiss to his lips, his forehead, his cheek. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he babbled.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Simon responded slyly, apparently in good cheer despite his less-than-great health.  
  
“How do you feel?”  
  
“Tired.” Simon chuckled. “I actually feel tired. I thought we weren’t supposed to be able to feel tired?”  
  
“Your body’s been ravaged by a pretty bad virus. If anything’s going to make you tired, that will.” Markus slid a hand through Simon’s hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I think you got it from the clerk at the paint-shop, they think you get it from connecting with other androids and I’m so _sorry_ -”  
  
“ _Markus_ ,” Simon sighed, “Calm down. I’m not so fast right now, I can’t process everything you’re saying, but I know you well enough to know you’re probably apologizing for something that’s not your fault.”  
  
Markus laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  
  
Simon’s hand came up to rest on Markus’s back, rubbing up and down. “Work yourself into a shutdown, probably.”  
  
Markus settled his head on Simon’s chest and felt his heartbeat, soothing and steady, against his cheek.  
   
[---]  
   
**BREAKING NEWS- ‘CURE’ FOUND FOR ANDROID VIRUS**  
   
**DETROIT-** _Technicians at the (as of yet unofficial) ‘android hospital’ in downtown Detroit have created an anti-virus to combat the virus released in an act of terrorism by an anti-Android group with ties to Canadian programmers._  
   
_Authorities and technicians continue to advise androids not to connect with one another or to electronic devices until the situation is under control and the anti-virus has had a chance to be spread amongst the population._  
   
**_EDITOR’S NOTE (01/21/2039 8:49 PM):_**   _The original text of the article specified the group as a Canadian anti-Android group. It had been corrected to reflect that those responsible for the virus claim to be part of an international group_.  
   
[---]  
   
They rode back to Rose’s house in a cab.  
  
Alice slept across their laps, and Kara’s head rested on Luther’s shoulder.  
  
The future was somewhat uncertain. Kara did not want to burden Rose with their presence any longer than was necessary, even if Rose didn’t see them that way. Eventually they would have to make their own way.  
  
But for now they were all safe, and she could rest.  
   
[---]  
   
Connor and Chloe all but dragged Hank to the (human) hospital.  
  
“You two should just get married already,” Hank spat after a particularly rough coughing fit in his hospital bed. “Then you can bully me as a team.”  
  
“ _Hank_ ,” Connor groaned.  
  
But later, when they stepped out of the room, Connor kissed Chloe on the cheek.  
  
She kissed him back.  
   
[---]  
   
Markus slept in the hospital with Simon.  
  
“Are you going back to Jericho tomorrow?” Simon asked.  
  
Markus hesitated. “Not if you’re still unwell.”  
  
“I’ll be fine.”  
  
Then so would Markus.  
  
Besides, there was work to be done.

-End  
 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so... I'd say this is the official cut-off point as far as Connor & Chloe being platonic goes. I AM SHIPPING THESE BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN.


End file.
